‘Janet,’ said he, ’go downstairs and get Sir Louis some hot water, and Joe, do you take hold of your master’s portmanteau.’

Joe sulkily did as he was bid.  ‘Seems to me,’ said he, turning to the girl, and speaking before the doctor was out of hearing, ’seems to me, my dear, you be rather short-handed here; lots of work and nothing to get; that’s about the ticket, ain’t it?’ Bridget was too demurely modest to make any answer upon so short an acquaintance; so, putting her end of the burden down at the strange gentleman’s door, she retreated into the kitchen.

Sir Louis in answer to the doctor’s inquiries, had declared himself to be all right; but his appearance was anything but all right.  Twelve months since, a life of dissipation, or rather, perhaps, a life of drinking, had not had upon him so strong an effect but that some of the salt of youth was still left; some of the freshness of young years might still be seen in his face.  But this was now all gone; his eyes were sunken and watery, his cheeks were hollow and wan, his mouth was drawn and his lips dry; his back was even bent, and his legs were unsteady under him, so that he had been forced to step down from his carriage as an old man would do.  Alas, alas! he had no further chance now of ever being all right again.

Mary had secluded herself in her bedroom as soon as the carriage had driven up to the door, and there she remained till dinner-time.  But she could not shut herself up altogether.  It would be necessary that she should appear at dinner; and, therefore, a few minutes before the hour, she crept out into the drawing-room.  As she opened the door, she looked in timidly, expecting Sir Louis to be there; but when she saw that her uncle was the only occupant of the room, her brow cleared, and she entered with a quick step.

‘He’ll come down to dinner; won’t he, uncle?’

‘Oh, I suppose so.’

‘What’s he doing now?’

‘Dressing, I suppose; he’s been at this hour.’

‘But, uncle—­’

‘Well?’

‘Will he come up after dinner, do you think?’

Mary spoke of him as though he were some wild beast, whom her uncle insisted on having in his house.

’Goodness knows what he will do!  Come up?  Yes.  He will not stay in the dining-room all night.’

‘But, dear uncle, do be serious.’

‘Serious!’

’Yes; serious.  Don’t you think that I might go to bed, instead of waiting?’

The doctor was saved the trouble of answering by the entrance of the baronet.  He was dressed in what he considered the most fashionable style of the day.  He had on a new dress-coat lined with satin, new dress-trousers, a silk waistcoat covered with chains, a white cravat, polished pumps, and silk stockings, and he carried a scented handkerchief in his hand; he had rings on his fingers, and carbuncle studs in his shirt, and he smelt as sweet as patchouli could make him.  But he could hardly do more than shuffle into the room, and seemed almost to drag one of his legs behind him.